


Marked

by kingkoblih



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkoblih/pseuds/kingkoblih
Summary: Tattoo and piercing parlor AU: Michele lost a bet and now has to get a tattoo or Piercing as a punishment. Emil is the owner of the parlor and is the artist that works on Mickey's tattoo/piercing.Prompt again received by the lovely tumblr user @lizardcool17!





	Marked

Michele checked the address on his phone again. Yes, it matched. And the building definitely looked like the one in the picture. Damn it.

He clenched his free hand into a fist, indecisive about whether to go inside or not. Well, he knew he had to, the question was if he should do it now or wait for a few hours and get drunk beforehand. He still wasn’t sure if he had the guts for it, but, oh well. Rules were rules, a deal was a deal and Sara would laugh at him for the rest of their lives if he backed up. He didn’t expect his vacation in Prague to take such drastic turn, but that was his sister – always full of surprises, always the well of creative, yet stupid ideas. He took a deep breath and held it in for a second to calm down. Whether he liked it or not, he was shaking. Not that he was scared, he was just incredibly nervous and didn’t know what to expect from this whole experience. He had to man up, though, it was time to do this. He let the air out of his lungs and finally made the first step towards the tattoo parlor.

The place intimidated him at the first sight. The walls were painted dark grey colour and one of them was covered in a wallpaper with depictions of various human bones. All the furniture looked as if someone’d been using it for a hundred years before it was moved into the parlor, only the chandelier looked majestic and pompous. The place looked quite chaotic, messy, but the lingering smell of disinfection calmed Mickey down. A bit.

He stood at the door like a lost puppy, looking around. He noticed a cute girl in a pinup dress and arms covered with tattoos, her back pressed against the wall while a tall man with black hair (totally dyed, Michele thought) and a face full of piercings was pressing himself against her. They were kissing wildly, speaking Czech in between the kisses. He didn’t understand them and he didn’t really want to. Some kind of awful punk music was playing in the background, quietly, but still loud enough to make him feel uncomfortable. No, Michele definitely didn’t belong at a place like this. He was about to turn around and leave, when the receptionist addressed him.

“Dobrý den! Můžu nějak pomoct?” she said in that godforsaken language Michele didn’t understand. He forced a smile out and turned to the little receptionist table behind which a tiny pink-haired goth girl sat. Despite the heavy layer of makeup, colourful contact lenses and a dress in such a shade of black Mickey thought it might suck him into the void if he looked at it for too long, she smiled politely and, actually, seemed kinda friendly to him.

“Uh… English?” he tried his luck.

“Oh, yeah, I do speak English!” she replied enthusiastically. Michele was surprised, she spoke the language fluently with no signs of a foreign accent. Such a great change from the broken czenglish he could hear everywhere around the city! Even though, he wasn’t the one to speak with his own language struggles. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” she gave Michele a bright smile. Woah, she really seemed excited.

“Italy. I’m from Italy,” Michele said, stepping closer to the table.

“Ooh, that’s a nice place. I’ve been there about three times, the food is always lovely,” she laughed and straightened up in her chair. “You want to talk to Emil, don’t you? All the foreigners do. I’m sorry, though, he’s booked till the next March. But I can make you an appointment with someone else…”

Michele had trouble following what she was saying. Really, for a goth girl, she was way too smiley and enthusiastic. Besides, before she even finished her sentence, another voice interrupted her.

“Did someone call me?”

Michele looked behind the goth girl. A head appeared in the gap between two heavy curtains that separated the big waiting room from the tattoo parlor itself. After the head a whole body of a man emerged. He was tall, well built, but still quite thin. His messy hair was sticking out in every direction, but his short beard was clean and neat. He was wearing black ripped jeans and an open black denim vest. _Only_ an open vest. Michele felt his cheeks burning slightly as his eyes checked the defined bare abs, chest and strong arms, all covered in tattoos of various styles and colours.

“Yeah, I’ve got this Italian cutie here,” the goth girl chirped.

“Italian? Cool!” the man smiled wide and walked around the table, offering Michele a hand. “I’m Emil. What can I do for you?”

“I told him you’re booked for a year ahead,” the goth girl sighed, not even giving Michele a chance to speak. The tall man looked at him with a curious smile. Michele could feel his incredibly blue eyes piercing his skin and he wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. He just stood there like an idiot because he was too nervous and too shy. The tall man, Emil, suddenly pat Michele’s back in a friendly manner. He had so much power that it made Michele stumble forward a bit.

“We’ll figure something out. Let’s go to the back, you’ll tell me what you want and maybe I’ll find a way to squeeze you in my schedule,” Emil offered and before Michele could argue with him, he was being dragged behind the thick, heavy curtains.

Emil sat him down on a little sofa and sat opposite to him in an arm chair. He took his notebook and a pen, ready to take any notes or to start sketching if needed, and he kept smiling so wide it made Michele feel a bit uncomfortable.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Michele. I… uh… My name’s Michele,” the Italian answered, already pissed at himself. Why was he so nervous? As if he’d never seen a bare male chest before.

“Nice to meet you, Michele! So, what would you like your tattoo to be like?” Emil asked, tapping the back of his pen on the edge of his notebook. Now the real weird time was to come. Michele wasn’t sure how to explain his requirements.

“Okay, I… Don’t really know how to put this without it sounding absolutely stupid,” he sighed. “I need a… a…” he had to stop and take a few breaths before saying it. It sounded stupid in his head, but he was sure it would sound even worse when said out loud. “I need a butt tattoo.”

For some reason, Emil didn’t laugh, he didn’t seem too surprised either. It only caused his smile to widen into an amused grin.

“A lost bet?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Michele had to admit the man in front of him seemed friendly and he felt that he probably was in good hands.

“Is this your first tattoo?” Emil asked, now biting gently on the end of the pen. He seemed to be restless, still fidgeting with something. Michele nodded and his gaze fell down to the tiled floor sticky from the disinfection.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Emil spoke again, his voice lacking all the signs of mocking now. He seemed honest with Michele and he appreciated it. “I have about two free hours now, so I think I can squeeze something small in there. But I won’t tattoo your butt, you would regret it, trust me,” he chuckled. “Let’s talk for a bit and I’ll try to come up with something you might like.”

Later Michele took his shirt off and he was laid down on what seemed like a massage table. He folded his arms under his head and looked to the side. After their little talk, Emil designed a simple yet complex geometric tattoo resembling everything Michele mentioned he loved – ice skating, art, and, of course, his twin sister. And since he didn’t want to have it shown during his routines, they decided the best place for it would be his upper back, right across his shoulder blade. After the talk Michele felt way calmer. Emil seemed like a really nice guy, despite looking quite scary with the tattoos going from the tips of his fingers all the way up under his chin. With a closer look, though, Michele realized most of the tattoos weren’t as scary as they looked. Pokémon, Moomins, anime characters, cartoon characters, those all adorned his skin. Also, what Michele didn’t notice until Emil leaned over him to press the stencil against his back, which caused his chest reveal a bit more, was the fact that his both nipples were pierced. He had to close his eyes not to stare at it. As much as painful it must’ve been, he found it quite hot for some reason.

“I’ll make a short line, so that you know how it feels, okay?” Emil’s voice cut his train of thoughts short. Before Michele could reply, the loud buzzing noise filled the room in and he felt a weird sensation on his left upper back – as if someone was scratching his skin with a sharp metal nail. It wasn’t so bad and, honestly, he was glad Emil made it quick. He himself was so nervous he wouldn’t let him start for another ten minutes if he only asked.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Michele replied with a little smile. He opened his eyes again and let Emil work. The burning sensation on his back was getting more uncomfortable with every line Emil made, but it wasn’t too bad, nothing he wouldn’t be able to withstand. Since Emil was out of his view, Michele’s eyes wandered around the room. It wasn’t until now that he noticed the long shelf full of golden cups and a bunch of medals and certificates hanging on the wall under it.

“Are those yours?” Michele asked curiously. Emil turned around to see what Michele was talking about.

“The prizes? Yeah, those are mine,” he smiled and got back to work, his fingertips, now covered in thick rubber gloves, gently pressing against Michele’s tan skin.

“All of them?” Michele asked again, amazement in his voice.

“All of them,” Emil replied with a small chuckle. It’d been some time since someone didn’t recognize him.

“No wonder you’re booked for so long…” Michele mumbled, more for himself. He was slowly starting to realize what kind of an artist he was dealing with and his cheeks were, once again, getting hot.

“It’s only June, though, I expect the reservations to go all the way to next December in a few weeks,” Emil said, looking quite proud of this achievement. “You’re pretty lucky,” he added, giving Michele a quick look.

“Yeah, I am…” Michele mumbled, looking away. Gosh, this was embarrassing. He didn’t research the parlor enough! He only knew that it was very well rated and people praised it everywhere, he didn’t know he was getting under the needle of the Czech tattoo god! His face suddenly scrunched up as one of the lines on his back was quite painful.

“How’re you holding up?” Emil asked, again sounding amused. Michele was sure he knew this was a painful spot and he was just teasing.

“I’m fine,” he huffed up, his voice choked a bit. At this point his teeth were clenched together. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but he still wished it was over as soon as possible.

There were a few minutes of silence. Michele, feeling the needles dancing under his skin, assumed it was because of the lines getting complicated and Emil had to focus on his work. He let a deep breath out when Emil straightened up and took the tattoo machine away from his skin to take a sip of water.

“So, how long are you staying in Prague?” the tattoo artist asked suddenly as he turned the machine off to change the needles for colouring.

“Two more weeks. I’m here on a vacation before leaving for a training camp,” Michele explained. He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it, he was sure his career couldn’t sound even remotely as exciting as Emil’s. The tattooed man, however, showed to be quite interested into the topic.

“Training camp? Man, you guys must work hard. I can’t imagine being a pro athlete,” he shook his head and buzzed the machine a few times to see if it was working right.

“You don’t do any sports?” Michele asked, it seemed unbelievable, considering Emil’s body.

“I do rock climbing,” Emil smiled so wide his ridiculously white teeth showed. “Took bronze at the world championship last year, but I’m too busy with working here to train properly. I think the gold is way beyond my reach.” Emil, with the ever-lasting smile on his lips, started tattooing again.

Michele blushed even more. Not only he was an amazing tattoo artist, but he even scored so high at the worlds in rock climbing? And he did it just occasionally?! He felt like nothing compared to the bearded man. And that wasn’t even the biggest shock to come.

“I don’t expect to place that high again next year, though, since I’m probably starting university,” was the sentence that took breath away from Michele’s lungs.

“U-University?! Excuse me, but… How old are you?” he asked carefully.

“Eighteen. Nineteen in a month,” Emil grinned. Michele felt a heavy stone dropping from his chest right into his stomach. This guy was eighteen? He was younger than him?! Well, _now_ he was feeling absolutely useless. Emil saw the mild embarrassment in Michele’s face, and stopped working for a bit again. He straightened up in the chair, stretching his back with a few loud popping noises.

“So, what are you planning for this season, other than kicking Katsuki’s ass for knocking you out from the GP finale?” he asked.

Michele froze. He was convinced his heart stopped working for a second and Emil was glad he decided to stop tattooing before asking this question since Michele’s body quickly tensed up. Michele supported his upper body on his elbows and turned to Emil with a confused, questioning look.

“What, you thought I sacrificed my lunch break just because of your cute face and adorable accent? Of course I know you,” Emil laughed and set the tattoo machine aside. Michele looked distressed and confused and Emil realized he maybe went way far past his comfort zone.

“How… Why didn’t you say anything?” Michele mumbled. “You asked me all these things you already knew, why… What’s your problem?” he sat up. He thought he looked intimidating, but, for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Emil one bit. The Czech was still smiling wide, obviously pleased with himself.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! I’ve heard you can be a bit grumpy, I thought if I told you I knew you, you’d straight up turn around and go somewhere else,” he explained, his blue eyes sparkling in happiness even more than before.

“Damn right I would,” Michele admitted, still quite salty about the whole situation.

“See? Come on, why so sad?” Emil nudged Michele with his elbow. “You should thank me, I could’ve easily given you the butt tattoo and put the pics all over the Internet,” he grinned.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Michele shouted. Deep down he knew Emil was just joking, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating. He was shaking slightly again, nervous and uncomfortable. In fact, he’d never met a fan of his before. It was awkward and he didn’t know how to act.

“Of course I wouldn’t, I’m just joking,” Emil sighed, still smiling as if Michele was a small child. “Get back down on your stomach, okay? I need to finish this or you’ll scatter my whole day schedule,” he pointed down at the table and, whether Mickey wanted or not, he had to get back down. There was a while of awkward silence. Well, awkward for Michele, Emil was fully focused on the last few lines that needed to be done.

“You watch figure skating?” Michele finally asked quietly.

“Yep, or, well, I try to. Most of the competitions aren’t available on our TV,” Emil sighed. “But I always try to find your performance on youtube id I can’t watch it live.”

“M-My performance? How about the others?” Michele asked, this time his voice curious and a bit louder.

“Sometimes. But not really, I already have my favourite,” Emil chuckled. Michele’s cheeks were now straight up red and he hid his face in his arm to hide it. So embarrassing!

“I especially loved the last _Serenade for Two_ ,” Emil added. “It’s a shame you didn’t get into the final, I was looking forward to it. But, oh well, at least I could sell my tickets and work here instead,” he laughed.

“You sold the tickets?” Michele kept asking more and more questions. The Czech was truly a weird creature to him.

“Yeah, I mean… The rest of them are amazing, but it wasn’t worth it for me when you weren’t there,” Emil shrugged. He finished the last line and straightened up. “Here we go, we’re done!” he declared and wiped the fresh tattoo with a wet cloth to get rid of the excess ink.

Michele got up slowly and let Emil lead him to a big mirror. He helped him to aim a smaller mirror in the right way to make the back tattoo visible and Michele remained silent for a solid minute. Silent, but open-mouthed.

It was beautiful. As much as it looked great on the paper, seeing the tangle of various geometrical shapes on his skin was almost magical. He kept examining it from every possible angle, still trying to find the right words to describe how he felt about it. He was sure about one thing – no one’d ever done anything so beautiful for him before. Meanwhile, Emil stood a few steps away, his eyes glued to the Italian, smiling gently. And it wasn’t a smile of a man proud of his work, it was a smile of a man making his own little dream come true. He had his idol right in front of him, he was talking to him, he could leave a mark on his skin saying “This man is mine from now on.”

“It’s amazing,” was the only word Michele could come up with. He was disappointed with himself as he couldn’t fully capture his feelings and came up with such a generic word, but his eyes were saying it all and Emil felt it. With a smile he walked back to Michele, covered the fresh tattoo with a plastic wrap and secured it with tape. A little sad, he watched Michele put his shirt back on before leading him back out to the receptionist desk.

“May I ask what kind of a thingy you two did there?” the goth girl asked teasingly. Emil pat her head and started entering data into her computer.

“You may not, don’t be too nosey,” he grinned and hit enter finally. Michele was surprised by the ridiculous amount of money Emil asked for, but, then again, he remembered who he was and how beautiful the piece on his back was. He slid the credit card into the terminal and entered the code without even thinking. Emil thanked him, gave him his receipt and handed Mickey a tube of special cream, supposedly made for healing tattoos, stating that was on him. He then walked around the table once more to escort his customer outside.

“Keep the plastic wrap on till the evening. Then wash it, but no direct water stream on it, the colour might fall off. Then cream it and put the cream on whenever you feel the skin’s dry. Other than that, no touching, no scratching, no direct sunlight,” he explained. Michele tried to memorize it all, but decided he would look up all the tips and trick for healing tattoos on the Internet, just to be sure. Emil stopped in between the door frame, leaning his shoulder against it, still smiling like the young boy he was. “And come tomorrow for a check, I want to see how it’s healing. How about at two?” he offered. Michele wasn’t sure about his plans with Sara for the next day, but this was about his skin healing properly, so he nodded.

“Okay, at two.”

“And come with an empty stomach, we’ll have something to eat,” Emil winked at him and disappeared back in the salon.

Michele stood there speechless for a second. Was that… An invitation for lunch? His cheeks were burning again. He turned around swiftly and covered his face with his hands. Sure, he felt embarrassed. But he definitely was smiling and squealing quietly under those slightly shaky hands.

 


End file.
